


You Can Do Your Thing

by ThrillingDetectiveTales



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Gen, just some fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 02:10:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11221092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrillingDetectiveTales/pseuds/ThrillingDetectiveTales
Summary: I do a thing on Tumblr where folks request a pairing or a character and I write a fill based on whatever track comes up on shuffle. This fill was written to the dulcet tones of Valerie June's "Man Done Wrong."Not beta-read. Enjoy!





	You Can Do Your Thing

**Author's Note:**

> I do a thing on Tumblr where folks request a pairing or a character and I write a fill based on whatever track comes up on shuffle. This fill was written to the dulcet tones of Valerie June's "Man Done Wrong."
> 
> Not beta-read. Enjoy!

"It's nice, ain't it?" Patty says one evening while Holtzmann is contorting herself awkwardly over a circuit board because she needs to solder a few things but refuses to abandon the warm pressure of Patty's arm around her shoulders. Patty is loose and easy, the way she always is, but on the other side of a few glasses of red wine she shines brighter - bigger and louder and less concerned with holding herself in than she sometimes gets, letting that personality of hers dazzle the way it was always intended to.  
  
Holtzmann loves Patty in all of her many forms and iterations - the amiable Metro worker, the under-caffeinated morning grouch, the history nerd who sometimes starts talking so fast that her words all smush up on each other in a glorious collision - but this Patty, so free with her joy and her affection, is one of her favorites.  
  
"What's nice?" Holtzmann asks, glancing over and pushing her goggles up into her wild mess of curls. The soldering iron is probably off because nobody flinches or shrieks when she sets it on the table, but Holtzmann weighs her options and decides that tracing the lush curve of Patty's smile, the sweet divots of her dimples, is a much more interesting use of her time than maintaining fire safety protocols.  
  
"Just this," Patty says, half-shrugging and gesturing to the space around them with her mostly-empty glass. 

Abby and Erin are giggling to themselves in the corner, heads ducked low together over Erin's laptop, some distant, tinny snatches of conversation playing too low to be intelligible from here. Kevin is presumably off at some kind of competitive turtle racing event with Mike Hat's testudine cousin, though with Kevin it's difficult to tell whether he's doing what he actually says he's doing or if he's misread a flier and ended up an honorary Fire Marshal by matter of bizarre happenstance. 

There’s inoffensive jazz music drifting from the speaker system - none of them are especially well-versed, but when their favorite local public radio gameshow ended a half-hour ago, nobody had bothered getting up to turn it off. The night outside is balmy and cool, sounds of the city humming pleasantly through the gaps in the fire station windows, cracked open to let a little of the evening breeze in and - hopefully - dispel the pervasive scent of scorched metal that lingers on the upper story no matter what kind of ventilation Holtzmann rigs up to try and get rid of it.

“It _is_ nice. _Very_ nice,” Holtzmann agrees, swinging her legs up over Patty’s and leaning in so that her cheek is pressed to the soft skin peeking over the lace-edged neckline of Patty’s top. She hums contentedly while Patty laughs, the perfect resonance of it vibrating through Holtzmann’s jaw. She tilts her head just enough to press a kiss to Patty’s collarbone and sighs, “Nicer now.” 

“Holtz,” Abby hollers warningly, “you owe fifteen dollars to the PDA jar if you start motorboating!”

Holtzmann groans and shifts up a little, burying her face along the elegant curve of Patty’s shoulder and making a half-hearted attempt to mutter about Abby ruining her fun. Patty throws her head back, cackling in that explosive way that reminds Holtzmann of fireworks going off, bright and loud and beautiful.

“The nicest,” she corrects, even though it’s mostly muffled by the neckline of the cardigan Patty is wearing. Patty’s still giggling when she leans over to press a kiss to the top of Holtzmann’s head, and Holtzmann doesn’t quite have the vocabulary to explain how nice it all truly is.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm [on Tumblr](http://thrillingest.tumblr.com) if you want to come say hey!


End file.
